


Glimpse of Bliss

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Exhibitionism, F/M, Female Bilbo, Group Sex, Oral Sex, PWP, Size Difference, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Given the shortage of Dwarven diversity, Thorin’s company is eager for a look at Bilbo’s parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glimpse of Bliss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MocaJava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MocaJava/gifts).



> A/N: Fic for anon’s “There's a shortage of female Dwarves and fem!Bilbo finds out that most of them have never been with a woman and therefore never gotten a good look at what a woman's got between her legs. So Bilbo lets them look at hers (and touch, and taste, if that's what they want). It's not just because she wants them to not remain ignorant...she really gets off on the attention, and how in awe they are of her pussy. + If the married Dwarves initially scoff like 'I've seen one' when Bilbo makes the offer, but their curiosity gets the best of them because maybe Hobbit lady parts are different. ++ If one of the Dwarves asks if they can put their cock in her to see what it feels like and Bilbo readily agrees. He describes what it feels like to the others. +++ Others want to try it too and Bilbo is more than happy to oblige” request on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=24685685#t24685685).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sure she’s somehow misheard, Bilbo repeats, “You’ve _never_ seen one?”

Kíli, who started it all, splutters, “It’s isn’t because of me! Dwarven with that are rare, okay?” His embarrassment is palpable, his face as pink as his brother’s, who has his eyes covered by one hand. Bilbo doesn’t feel much better, and the only reason she isn’t beet red is that she’s busy being bewildered, shaking her head and glancing around the circle of dwarves. 

But every one of them looks as uncomfortably interested as Kíli. Even Dwalin is looking too-pointedly away, while Thorin stares blankly over Bilbo’s head, refusing to answer. Ori’s buried himself in a scroll, pretending to be reading without actually moving it at all. Finally, Glóin musters up a gruff, “I’ve got a wife and little boy, so obviously _I_ know what goes on between a woman’s legs.”

“Not a hobbit’s legs,” Bofur quips, only to have Thorin give him a wide-eyed glare. Bofur mutters a quick, “Sorry,” and looks up at the very indistinct nighttime sky. 

Glóin grumbles thickly, “Well, it’s likely much the same.” He gestures his hand, but something in his eyes says he doesn’t really believe it, and Bilbo shuffles her large feet, acutely aware that everyone in the company, even those not exactly looking at her, are really _looking at her._ The one saving grace is that Gandalf’s off on watch; she couldn’t take it if he were witness to this conversation. 

But then, that’s what she gets for taking up with thirteen rowdy dwarves with nothing better to do night after night than squat around the fire preaching raunchy tales. 

Except that apparently, most really are _just tales_ , and it’s not all that uncommon for Dwarven men to go much of their adulthood without ever seeing a naked woman of any sort. Which leaves them all to ogle Bilbo, now that the conversation’s been brought up. She almost feels sorry for them—sex, while not much of a publicly discussed subject in the Shire—is well known as one of life’s greatest delights, for those so inclined, in any case. Bilbo happens to be one of those particularly interested hobbits, and of course, she’s always had that much-too-adventurous streak, however she tries to hide it, so discussing it with dwarves isn’t nearly so awful as it probably should be. Their stares, after all, aren’t so much lecherous as admiring, and though their journey’s young, Bilbo feels inexplicably attached to every one of the thirteen men here. The more they look at her, the more her cheeks start to feel hot, and she hugs her snug vest self-consciously around her. At least most of them are polite enough to _try_ and keep their gazes to her face, but with how small she is compared to them, they’re probably picking up _everything_ in their peripherals, from the gentle rise of her soft breasts to the length of her woolen skirt. Her haired feet shift in the dirt, absently kicking another pebble into the fire. This is one of those awkward pauses where someone’s supposed to spout another story, or maybe a song, or a joke, but everything is just painfully quiet. 

It gets to the point where she sighs and asks, “Alright, any questions?” Because if they’re going to all think about it, they may as well talk about it. Ori’s head shoots out of his scroll, his expression awe-struck, before he catches himself and quickly looks away again, obviously flustered. There’s a note of _awe_ to all of them, which makes Bilbo feel simultaneously strange and hot. She looks sideways at Kíli, sitting next to her, who first brought up the subject, and he opens his mouth like he wants to ask about _everything_ , but then he looks over at Thorin, like asking permission.

This makes several of them turn to Thorin, who’s now watching Bilbo intently. She can feel herself being sized up, scrutinized, and hopes she passes. The longer his smoldering gaze burns into her, the more she has to struggle not to squirm. Thorin, like so many of them, is so _very_ handsome. The look brings up her own desires, frantic fantasies summoned in the dead of night, sleeping in a little sleeping bag amidst so many large, warm men. She’s always been quiet when she touches herself though, so surely they can’t have heard, can’t know, that she may have just moaned one or two of their names before this. But as Thorin’s eyes linger, she can’t help but feel like he _sees_ it; he _knows_.

Finally, he murmurs, “Will you show us?”

Several mouths fall open, including Bilbo’s, and Balin admonishes, “Thorin—”

“Only if you want to,” Thorin adds, his deep tones too level and calm for what he’s suggesting. He nods his head towards her, like this is some normal, educational proposition. “We’ll never speak of it again, if you don’t.” There’s a protective air to him, like any dwarf who dared defy Bilbo’s wishes would find themselves with a very angry king on their hands. Bilbo appreciates it and shuffles again, her knees rubbing together. She’s suddenly hyper aware of the bare skin around her ankles and her lower calves—perhaps she should’ve worn boots, whatever the hobbit norm. But of course, then she might not be tempting all her friends so much...

She licks her lips unconsciously, thinking, peering around at them, Thorin’s gorgeous countenance and Dwalin’s strong build and Bofur’s compelling grin. Now they’re all watching her eagerly, and it sends a wild thrill down her spine; she shivers, feeling naughty. The adventure craving in her bubbles up, the same one that Gandalf first used to draw her out of her home, only now it’s tinged with all their hunger. Their rapt attention drives her to slowly nod her head, making several sets of eyes go wide. 

She pushes off the log she’s sitting on, standing on her feet, still not that high above Kíli’s head on one side and Balin on the other. She has to bend over to catch the hem of her skirt, knowing Thorin, directly across from her, is getting an eyeful of cleavage down her blouse in the process. She straightens again with her skirt in hand, fingers wringing hesitantly along the fabric. Balin mumbles quietly, gravely, “Bilbo, you don’t have to do this.”

She nods, because she knows. But she kind of _wants_ to. When is she going to have another chance to have thirteen dwarves devouring her with their eyes? Perhaps they’ll even find another woman on the road with a similar body type, more than happy to enlighten the party, and even if they won’t have a nice, small hobbit pussy, these are _Bilbo’s_ dwarves, and she wants to be the first one into their fantasies. 

So she scrunches the skirt up her legs, up over her bare thighs, cool in the dusk air, dotted with sprinklings of curled blond hair, not quite so thick and coarse as those on her companions. She brings the skirt right up over her waist, and she hears a collective gasp from around the campfire, two stifled moans and one whistle. Clearly, they’ve never seen hobbit panties, either, delicate and thin and made of lace, patterned to match the doilies she would’ve served potential mates tea on back at home. She knows they don’t cover much, especially with how much this experience is stirring her body. If this keeps up, she’ll likely wet them through. 

She has to hold her skirt up with her elbows as she bends again to hook her thumb in the sides of her panties, just beneath the flat bows. Then she pulls them down, noting, with a spot of embarrassment, that the thong-like middle is slightly damp, the white-pink colour translucent there. She pushes them right down her ankles, then steps nimbly out of them, careful not to touch them to the dirt—she still wants _some_ semblance of cleanliness. But she doesn’t know where to put them after, until Kíli thrusts out a hand. 

Cheeks burning, Bilbo hands him her slightly soiled panties, hoping he doesn’t tear them apart in his big hands. He takes them to hold up in reverence, the firelight playing over the expensive, shimmering fabric. Before Bilbo’s even straightened out, Nori’s leaning over Fíli, grabbing them from Kíli’s hand and calling, “Give ‘em here.”

Bilbo lets them fight over it. Some of the dwarves are now watching her panties being passed about, tugged at and felt—Óin even takes a strong whiff—and others are watching her intently, waiting on the rest of the show. 

Bilbo slowly pulls back up, holding her skirt high, showing off the smooth valley between her plump thighs, her belly dipping into soft tufts of honey-gold hair, shorter but not unlike the curls on her head. The skin that runs between her legs is pinker, darker than the rest of her pale complexion. The damp lips of her pussy are parted just enough to show off a peak at her inner folds and the little, swirled nub of her clit. Even as the slight breeze hums against her, a flame slithers through Bilbo’s little body, and she shudders, having to force herself to keep her eyes open. Now the dwarves are all _gaping_ at her, leaning closer, different forms of lust on every one of their features. Bombur looks like he wants to eat her up, Dwalin like he wants to grind her into the ground, Glóin like he knows exactly what he wants to do with her but is struggling through loyalty to his wife. Dori has his hand beneath his chin, nodding to himself like he’s committing this to memory, and Kíli leans right into Bilbo’s thigh, sniffing loudly. 

Thorin immediately hisses, “Kíli, behave.”

But Bilbo doesn’t at all mind the way Kíli looks at her and licks his lips, before muttering offhandedly to Thorin, “You’re the one that got her skirt up.” Thorin glares darkly at Kíli for one completely ineffective minute, where Kíli continues to stare at Bilbo and Thorin eventually returns to that too.

Bilbo doesn’t know how long she should keep holding her skirt up, but she gets the distinct feeling she won’t put it down until she’s told. Fíli asks dazedly from Kíli’s other side, “Can I touch it?” Several of the dwarves light up at this idea, others looking jealous, and Bilbo, staring down at Fíli’s thick fingers, can only nod her head. He shuffles closer, crowding Kíli, and reaches past his brother to draw his hand up Bilbo’s thigh, fingers curving around the inner mounds. He’s pulled his gloves off, and it’s just his raw, calloused skin brushing over hers, so much smoother and tighter by comparison. But then, everything about the dwarves is thick and rugged, and when Fíli’s index finger drifts over her slit, Bilbo gasps. She has to bite her bottom lip to stop any more noises, and her knees clamp together so she can rub her thighs, though Fíli’s hand between them stops the friction she wants. He presses his thumb hard between her lips and rubs at her, a little rough at first. 

Bilbo half expects Thorin to scold him, but of course, Thorin wouldn’t know how to handle a hobbit pussy any better, and Bilbo has to mumble on her own, “Be gentle.” Just at first. Maybe once they’ve all really warmed her up, she’ll be able to take all their giant, probing hands, as rough as they like, but for now, it’s all new, and she’s frail and very aware that they don’t know what they’re doing.

Fíli grunts, “Sorry,” and moves slower, releasing some of the pressure. He strokes her softly instead, his blunt fingernail catching, every once in a while, on her inner walls. She hopes he isn’t getting dirt inside her, but of course, she’ll have to clean herself out tomorrow anyway, after having dwarf fingers of any sort in such a sensitive area. 

Bofur asks, “What’s it feel like?” He sounds half excited and half mesmerized. Fíli inclines his head closer, and Kíli pushes him back, keeping the view open to all the others.

“Really _soft_ ,” Fíli says, then rubs at the top a little more, tapping curiously at the little round tip of Bilbo’s clit, which makes her stifle another gasp and squirm. “And... I don’t know, kinda mushy... warm...” When he finally pulls his hand away, he stares at the ends of his fingers, adding, “And wet.” Bilbo blushes deeper, even though they don’t seem to know just what that means. If any of them do, they don’t fill the others in. It baffles her that dwarves like her could be so rare that twelve of them never caught a glimpse.

Fíli puts his hand back a moment later, only to have Kíli join without asking, and Bilbo grunts as their stubby fingers push at her. A scowl swaps between them, but neither seems willing to risk a fight that could break the magic, so they work around each other, probing her, until Nori urges, “Stick one in.”

Fíli glances over her shoulder, and Dwalin grunts, “Do it—put one of your fingers in her cunt.” Bilbo almost winces at the harsh word, but the desire on Dwalin’s face smoothes it over, and the brothers knelt at her side look up at her face; she nods again. 

She gasps a moment later, Fíli having stabbed one finger at her middle, a little too high and catching. She groans and quivers; it stings like he scratched her, though she can tell he didn’t, and he mumbles, “Sorry,” again, pulling back out. 

Kíli elbows him and hisses, “Gently.” He starts rubbing one finger around the middle of the slit. Bilbo tries to relax herself, breathing deeply, wanting to open for them, but it’s hard when their fingers are competing to loosen her, alternatively trying to push each other away and burrow deeper inside. Finally, the tip of Kíli’s finger pops into her inner hole, still too big, but at least he probably has the smallest hands of all the dwarves. Through half-lidded eyes, Bilbo takes in the circle; she probably couldn’t handle anyone’s hands larger than Kíli’s, Fíli’s, and maybe Ori’s. She certainly couldn’t take Dwalin’s massive fingers or Bifur’s long digits. Kíli pushes his way slowly forward, and a second later, Fíli’s tip stretches in next to it, making Bilbo hiss and tense. They both stop immediately, petting below her belly liking trying to soothe a horse, and they go back to moving slowly in. 

Bofur prompts again, “And?”

Kíli grunts, “Tight.”

“ _Really_ tight,” Fíli adds, “and it’s like a furnace in here.” He sounds overjoyed though. 

Thorin warns, “Don’t hurt her,” and the brothers both shoot him a small glare, like they’d never dream of such a thing. They don’t seem to understand that hobbit vaginas aren’t meant to take big dwarf fingers, and as ridiculously aroused as she is, she can only loosen so much on her own. She tries, of course, to relax and help them fit, but it’s been so long since she had anything this big inside her, and one of the fingers keeps worming around, while the other deliberately crooks to rub at her walls. It’s both good and strange and mildly distressing, and once, one of the fingers pokes at a ball of nerves that makes her elicit a high-pitched cry, and they both stop again to stare up at her. 

She’d cover her burning face in her hands, but she’s busy holding up her skirt. Kíli pulls his finger out, but Fíli pushes his further in, starting to rock into her, and she drops her head to moan. 

Bombur’s voice asks, “What’s it _taste_ like?” Bilbo opens her mouth to answer, not sure what she’ll say, maybe that she’d love for him to find out, but Kíli’s already pushed back in, mouth opening so his warm breath puffs over her skin. Fíli keeps moving his finger in and out of her, and then Kíli’s small, wet tongue laps at her outsides, stretched around Fíli’s finger. She makes a keening noise and has to hold her hips from thrusting back into Kíli’s face; hobbits have a high appreciation of food, and of course she’d thought of them eating out of her, or just plain eating her out. Or her licking things off them, perhaps. Kíli must decide he likes the taste, because he licks her again, then again, laving over the stretched brim, catching a few times on Fíli’s finger. Just as Fíli’s trying to push another digit in, Bombur scrambles around the circle from the other side, pushing Balin back. 

He gives Fíli’s hand a shove, and Fíli glares but lets himself be removed, before someone else tells him to let the others have their turn. Kíli moves over to his side, smartly keeping out of Bombur’s way, and then Bombur opens his mouth and his big, flat tongue presses at the tiny space between her legs. Bilbo squeaks, her fisted knuckles turning white around her skirt—his tongue is huge. Thick and wide, it runs right up her pussy, soaking the little hairs and dragging over her labia. His saliva mixes with her own juices, and she shivers deliciously as he goes in for another swipe, while Kíli nuzzles into her thigh. Their beards tickle, their big noses digging into her skin, and Bilbo’s starting to wonder why she decided to do this standing up—it would be so much easier to lie down and melt away under all their attentions. 

But this way, they can all see her better. While Bombur’s flat tongue washes over her again and again, making her knees weak, Ori suddenly jumps off his log. With a determined look on his face, he comes to stand between Bombur and Kíli, asking, “Can I...?”

Bilbo moans, “ _Oh,_ ” before managing to say, “yes.” Yes to whatever it is. She hardly cares. They were only meant to look, but how can she say no to touching and tasting, when they’re so very eager for it? Still standing, broader and taller than her even if he’s one of the smaller dwarves, he pushes his hand down, raking his gloved palm over her stomach. Bombur starts licking lower, curling his tongue against her lips like he’s going to force his way inside, and that gives Ori the room to pet lower. His bare fingers, poking through the holes of his glove, scratch lightly through the short hair.

Then he drops abruptly to his knees, and Bombur jerks away just in time for Ori to dive in. He nuzzles his whole face into her pussy, and Bilbo gasps, tongue poking out of her mouth as she pants, thighs trembling. She has the sudden urge to grab his thick hair and push him in, but of course, the other dwarves will want a turn, and she can’t please _all_ of them, not on one night, but she can at least _show_ them. Then she wonders, instead, if she should be crawling across the circle, taking turns on their laps, letting them each finger her one at a time, lick her if they like, instead of just standing here on display. But her legs are shaking too badly for her to walk anyway, and when Ori pulls back for air, he announces longingly, “You’re _so_ soft, Bilbo!”

“What’s it like _inside_ , though?” The implication’s clear. It’s Nori that asks, and they all look interested, though Ori turns red, even after what he’s just done. Bilbo looks away—she couldn’t _possibly_ take anymore than they’ve given her—she couldn’t actually _ride_ any of them, surely they’re much too big, and she almost hopes they won’t ask, because the thought of it is both exquisite and mortifying, and then Thorin clears his throat. 

He doesn’t _say_ it, but the question’s all over his face. If anyone’s going to be properly inside her, it’s going to be him. Of course it would have to be. He’s one of the biggest, but he’s also the _king_ , and Bilbo shivers the quick, familiar fantasy of being Thorin Oakenshield’s concubine. She’s thought of it enough at night, curled up behind him and staring at his back, picturing lying on a pillow of this illusive Erebor, waiting for her master to come claim her. Surely any great king would have a harem, and although she’d never presume to be his favourite, perhaps she could still warm his bed here and there, at least in her daydreams, or kneel before his throne and lick at his huge cock, too big to fit in her mouth...

Unable to stop herself, she steps around Ori, and Kíli pulls back to give her room. She only takes one more step before she decides her skirt’s too big, it’s too heavy, and it’s in her way and she wants to hold onto _Thorin_ instead of holding it up. She pushes it resolutely over her hips and down her legs. She steps out of it and leaves it lying there, burning with embarrassment but not at all ashamed of her body, and she marches forward. She can feel all their eyes on her bottom, some on her front and others on her ass, and she has the fleeting thought of ripping off her blouse and vest—why not just show them _everything?_ Perhaps they could put out the fire, lie her down in the middle, and some could continue with her pussy while others discovered her breasts, maybe squeezed them or licked them or even suckled on her nipples—but then, she couldn’t take that much stimuli at once; she’ll have to work up to it. 

She gets almost to Thorin’s side when Bofur’s hands reach out and grab her thigh. She stops, blinking down at him, and he says with a hopeful grin, “If Fíli and Kíli’s fingers found it tight, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to go sitting on Thorin just yet.”

It’s a fair point, and Bilbo mumbles, “I suppose.” It comes out breathy, like she wants to be moaning. Even when the dwarves aren’t touching her, all the attention keeps her hot. Bofur nods and pulls her a little closer—she has to resist tumbling into his lap, because she knows if she sits down on the sizeable bulge of his crotch, she’ll never get up again. 

He turns her more to face him, and then one of his hands is cupping one round cheek of her ass, holding her steady, while the other runs down her pussy, now dripping with saliva and a bit of sweat and her own arousal. At first, he just probes, getting used to the feel, and then he uses two fingers to stretch her open, peeking inside. She can only hope this doesn’t make it into one of his songs, though she loves the appreciative look on his face. She might have a troop of strong dwarves to contend with, but at least they’re kind to her and treat her well. Bofur only pushes his first finger in slowly, and even then draws it gently in and out. He looks up at her to ask, “Is that alright?” She bites her lip and nods, and he strokes at her until he decides to risk a second finger, also big and fat, but at least she’s more relaxed. Looser, she sucks him in, and he groans and starts to scissor her wider, pushing in all the way to the knuckle. 

Glóin, so sure earlier that he already knew everything, breaks and asks, “How is it?”

Before Bofur can answer, Bombur sighs dreamily, “Delicious.” Bilbo almost laughs but moans instead—even though it’s his first time, Bofur’s care makes him very _good_ at it. His hands are nimble for their size, and she vaguely remembers being told he used to be a toy maker. She can believe it. When he gets three fingers in her, it’s a hard fit, and she does wince, even as he makes a comically soothing noise and pets her ass. She makes the mistake of glancing at Thorin, who’s _staring_ at her with a feral want, so intense she nearly sways from it. 

He practically snarls, “That’s enough,” and reaches out a hand for her wrist. Bilbo wasn’t quite holding onto anything, lost as she was, so she comes easily enough when Thorin grabs her. Bofur’s fingers slip right out of her, and he lets her go. She drifts to Thorin’s side, hands tentatively reaching for his shoulders, and she lifts one knee to the coarse log at his side. She climbs up into his lap and is pulled atop the softness of his thick robe, furred around the edges. It feels vaguely luxurious, even out in a desolate camp as they are, and as she looks at his many coverings and armour, he looks very much a _king_

He brushes one hand, clothed and _giant_ , down below her stomach, and she shivers under it, trying to hold back a moan. She’s already so _very_ aroused that she wouldn’t be surprised to have an orgasm before he even got inside her, but she doesn’t want to let him know how just how wanton she’s feeling. There’s no shame in being sexually easy for hobbits, but she’s heard stories of how Men are and doesn’t know about dwarves. Although, Thorin can’t care much for some mythical ‘purity,’ because he’s already let his whole company have a look at her. 

She wants them to have a go at her too—she’s told it’ll be a long journey, so there should be plenty of time to let each and every dwarf explore her body at his own leisure—but for now she focuses on Thorin, and she arches her greedy hips into his hand. Her pussy’s pressed against his fingers, and they curl around her, just experimentally. She wants to see the rest of him but wouldn’t dare presume to strip away his clothes. 

Dori elbows Thorin suddenly, urging, “Go on.”

Thorin gives him a harsh look, but from the other side, Balin, who’s picked up Bilbo’s skirt and draped it back over her spot on their log, says seriously, “Don’t make her wait too long, Thorin. We’ve teased the poor woman enough.” Bilbo has just enough of her wits to shoot Balin a tiny, appreciate smile. 

Thorin listens, and he lets go of her only long enough to part the folds of his tunic, hiking up his belt in the process. He dips into his trousers, pulling deftly at the laces, and then he shoves the fabric down, and Bilbo stares in awe as Thorin pulls out his cock. 

It’s _huge._ Bilbo’s never even imagined anything that big—it looks bigger than a pony’s, maybe even a horse’s—and suddenly she feels very foolish for lusting after dwarves; she had no idea what she was getting into. Thorin’s cock is so long, the size of her forearm if not bigger, and it’s thick around too, ripped like a muscle, flushed pink and red and lined with little rivers of veins that she can see pulsing against the skin. The powerful head is crowning, the little hole in the foreskin parting as the bulbous tip below pushes through, the slit in the top already leaking two little beads of precum that Bilbo desperately wants in her mouth. Before she can stop herself, she’s ducked forward, not having to bend far to catch her lips around the top, tongue pushing out to lap up his seed. Thorin grunts, and Bilbo suckles at the tip without even meaning to, wanting _more_. Next to Thorin, she can hear Bofur moaning. In the corner of Bilbo’s eye, she can see that Dori’s got his own cock out, smaller than Thorin’s but still too big, and he’s stroking it wildly. She can’t see the rest of the dwarves, but she hopes she’s not alone in her pleasure. She tries to open her mouth and take more of the massive girth, but Thorin growls, “Stop that.” His voice is hoarse, and his hand fists in her short hair, yanking her off with a wet ‘pop.’ Bilbo whimpers but finds she doesn’t mind a little hair pulling, not from Thorin. 

She lets him pull her back up. He even grabs her wrists and moves her hands back to his shoulders, having fallen down his chest, and he picks her up by her tiny hips and holds her in the air, high enough that her knees lift off the sides of his robes. He holds her over his cock, staring down at her pussy, which she can’t help from flexing in anticipation. She’s dripping wet and open, and she looks at Thorin desperately, murmuring, “ _Please._ ”

He pushes her down, and as soon as the mammoth head of his cock is pressing between her lips, she’s gasping, fingers clawing in his tunic. He tries to move her more, slowly, but after that first push to put the tip inside her, she can only take one centimeter at a time. Thorin bites back a breath, then _roars_ in pleasure and jerks his hips up, filling her with more. She almost chokes, trying to flex open to take it, but it’s so very hard and big and she’s so very small, and she feels like she’s losing her mind. It does hurt, but the arousal covers it, mixing in a confusing bout of over-stimulation. She slumps forward to bury her face in his broad chest, while he slowly feeds her more and more of his giant dick. 

It seems to take her _forever_ to take it all. By the time she’s sitting heavily on his lap, thighs limp against him, she feels delirious. She’s _so_ stretched, his cock _everywhere_ , warm and stiff and alive inside her. She had no idea her body could accommodate so much without splitting apart. For one terrifying second, she wonders what will happen if he comes inside her—will she start to grow a litter of little princes inside her belly, and will Thorin be alright with having a hobbit bear his children, or could a spell from Gandalf perhaps erase that worry in the morning? It’s a wild thought, but not unreasonable, and if she _had_ to bear children for these dwarves, it isn’t as though she’d especially mind...

For now, she’s not sure if there’s any use thinking about it. Thorin’s cock is already leaking, and with how long it is, his seed’s probably already buried deep inside her. She’ll have to talk to Gandalf later, even though he might only tell her that dwarves and hobbits aren’t compatible that way. 

Thorin rocks his hips up suddenly, and Bilbo trembles all over, nearly drooling against his chest. He does it again, just small, gentle thrusts that make her bounce a little. Both of Thorin’s hands are digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises, but they’re marks Bilbo wants to bear. It takes all of her strength to push off of him and sit up straight again, peering up into his great, bearded face. She can see the lust all over it, and his eyes slide down her body, into her top, all the way down to where her pussy’s stretched around him. Bilbo squirms, then manages to put her hands on his big thighs. 

She pushes her body up, sliding off his cock, even though her convulsing pussy doesn’t want to let it go, and when she’s gotten halfway, she can’t go anymore, and she collapses back down. Thorin grunts and Bilbo cries out, but she does it again, pulling loose and then taking him in all at once, her weight doing half the work. She starts to bounce up and down on his lap, gasping on every plunge and trembling but _loving_ it; he feels _so_ good; she’s never been filled like this before, and now she doesn’t want to ever go another night without being taken like this, and she lifts one shaky hand to her shirt while the other helps lift her. She pulls clumsily at her own buttons, parting her blouse to show him her breasts, because she wants to give Thorin _all_ of her, and he stares at her with such adoration, even fiercer when the fabric’s parted enough for her breasts to topple out, nipples already hard and bouncing with the rest of her body. He stares down at them like he wants to suck her dry, and then his head dives in and slams into hers, his tongue pushing right into her open lips. He kisses her _hard_ , and it’s so all-consuming that Bilbo’s dizzy, doing nothing but melting against him and instinctively riding his cock. 

Behind her, someone asks what it’s like, and Thorin rips away from her mouth to growl, “ _Wonderful_.”

“I want a try,” Nori insists.

“We should all get a chance,” Dwalin calls. 

“Is she still tight?” Fíli asks, and Bilbo wants to say that she’s never been so loose in her whole life, because she’s never been so wildly turned on, but he’s just so _big_ that it doesn’t matter. 

Thorin holds onto her and hisses, looking just at her, “She’s loose for me.” Bilbo trembles; he understands, and it’s true; her body wants nothing more than to open for him and take him in. Then he moans, “And _so_ wet...”

“Wet?” Glóin asks, sounding confused. Bilbo feels bad for his wife, even though she doesn’t know if Dwarven parts even do get wet, but hobbits certainly do when they’re aroused, and Thorin makes her drenched in her own want. They must be able to hear how soaked she is; there’s a squelching sound that comes with her bouncing, followed by the slapping noises and her constant moaning. Glóin adds suddenly, “Turn her around!” 

Other dwarves jump in, encouraging that idea, and Bilbo, wanting wildly to please, lifts up again, pulls right off, and the second Thorin’s out of her she can’t think of anything else—she feels gaping and empty and wants him back inside her. 

He shifts her around, turning her easily, so that she faces all the dwarves, and Thorin holds her up over him again. He waits a moment before pushing her down. As she sinks lower, he grabs her thighs, pulling them as wide as they’ll go, showing her off to his company. When she leans back against Thorin’s chest, she can see down the slope of her body to where his humongous cock is curved into her, stuffed through her engorged labia and nestled right up against her clit, rubbing as he slides in and out, over and over. Bilbo reaches one hand back to grab at his hair, the other bracing herself on his thigh, and Thorin reaches one hand around to squeeze her breast, so hard that she screams. There’s no grace to it, but she can’t care. His hips have started to thrust into her so mercilessly that she’s bouncing from that alone, and his second hand joins in. He clutches her tits while he fucks her. He tugs on her nipples and pulls her breasts taut, then shoves them back in and kneads into her tender flesh, while the other dwarves stare at her, some touching themselves. Bilbo can’t even make out their differences anymore; they’ve all blurred into one big mass of potential partners. Perhaps not tonight, though, because Thorin’s pounding into her so relentlessly that she doubts she’ll be able to walk again for hours. Finally, he shifts one hand from squeezing her breast to running back down her body, and he rubs his fingers over the sides of her pussy. His thumb catches on her clit, and she screams, arching up into him, so he starts to tap at it, rolling it around while he stimulates the rest from the inside, and she tries to reach her head back to kiss him but never makes it that far. 

Her orgasm rips through her like a tidal wave, washing her mind into nothing. Her vision dances, and all she can feel is hot, burning hot, and her legs tense, her pussy spilling more juice around Thorin’s cock, and she can feel her whole body wracked with spasms, spine arching back as she shrieks her delight. It’s the most intense pleasure she’s ever felt, and she lives in that for a few glorious moments, nothing but ecstasy. 

She’s barely come down from that high when Thorin slams her down, holds her there and grinds up into her, roaring his own release. She can feel him exploding inside her, his seed coating her walls, pushing with nowhere to go, gushing instead around her insides. Bilbo’s body greedily sucks it all up, her hips rocking into him to milk him out. 

When it’s over, she’s exhausted, spent and panting and slick with sweat, still speared open on him. She can feel Thorin slumping back, his hands slipping from her body. She feels empty without him, still hot but cooling in the night air. 

A few sticky moments later, and it feels strange to still have Thorin inside her, huge as he is. She tries to stand up, but it takes quite a bit of effort to make her trembling thighs work. Finally, she pushes off and wobbles up to her feet, knees together and pussy wide-open, dribbling Thorin’s seed all down her thighs. She wishes she could plug it up and keep it inside, but she didn’t bring anything like that along. So she just stands in front of the ring of dwarves, leaking an obscene amount of dwarf cum and wondering if she has it in her to go again. 

Most of the dwarves still look hungry, though a few are hunched over and breathing hard, probably having finished themselves off. Dwalin looks like he’s going to lunge at any moment and knock her right over, but Bofur’s the closest, and he’s the one that tugs at her waist. She collapses easily into his lap, too weak to move away. 

So instead she just turns in his lap, leans her head on his chest, and mumbles, “Can’t take another... just yet...”

“That’s alright,” Bofur insists, petting her hair and her thigh. “I just want to play with your cute pussy.” Bilbo, still blushing, nods and nuzzles into his shoulder. When she gets her wits about her, she’ll look back at Thorin, and maybe someday they’ll talk about this, work something out to make it a regular basis sort of thing. 

But for now, she just sleepily lounges in Bofur’s lap, while his clever fingers play with her pussy and the other dwarves line up to get their chance.


End file.
